


'til the fever breaks

by wintersrose616



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Domestic Fluff, M/M, Post-Blue Lions Route (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:14:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23812138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wintersrose616/pseuds/wintersrose616
Summary: He groans when Dimitri’s arm slides under his shoulders, hefting him up. He's definitely not prepared for the vertigo that happens when he's pulled to sit up. His eyes are closed, but the world still feels like it's spinning.“Still think you’re not sick?” questions Dimitri, voice soft.“I’m not,” Felix insists, blinking his eyes open. “I just needed some sleep.”.Felix refuses to admit that he’s gotten a fever. Dimitri is still ready to act as his personal nurse.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Comments: 14
Kudos: 168





	'til the fever breaks

Felix wakes woolly-headed, unable to suppress the shiver that immediately wracks his body as soon as he processes he’s awake. 

He isn’t fully surprised by how he feels. He had suspected a fever early that morning, when he first rose for the day. It hadn’t reached its peak before the meeting that they had mid-morning. He had brushed off Dimitri’s concerned glances, steadfastly ignoring him after. He had been determined to just work through it, and he had mostly succeeded, getting through the meeting before going to train.

He doesn’t remember falling asleep, nor even making it back to their chambers, but based on the soft mattress beneath him, he had made it to bed. The last thing he truly remembers is Sylvain catching him when he was leaving the training grounds. He hadn’t done anything too unusual, just his regular drills, but by the time he had been leaving, he had felt worse than he had after fighting in Ailell. He remembers Sylvain asking a question, Felix trying to brush him off, and then. . .nothing.

He frowns as best he can, blinking his eyes open. It takes a moment for his eyes to focus, drifting across the bedposts before they close again, the effort of taking in his surroundings using too much energy.

He hopes he made it back to their chambers without passing out. Sylvain will never let him hear the end of it if he had to be carried. 

His hair is plastered to his forehead, and he reaches a hand up, intent to push it out of the way, but his entire arm feels weak. It falls uselessly back to the bed, still trapped under the heavy bedding. He hears a noise from afar and shifts his head, trying to force his body to respond so he can at least _sit_. He’s not given the chance before a familiar, _cold_ hand is resting against his forehead. A shiver runs through him again, and he makes a grumpy noise, trying to tell Dimitri off. 

“You’ve a fever, Felix,” says Dimitri, voice worried. “Sylvain had to bring you back.”

Felix tries to say, “Fuck off.” It comes out muddled. He manages a weak sounding, “‘m _fine_.” 

“You are decidedly _not_ fine,” Dimitri says. His hand moves, tenderly brushing the hair off Felix’s forehead. “You should have told me you weren’t feeling well.”

He grumbles, trying to shift away from Dimitri’s hand, fingers still chilly against his skin. Dimitri’s sigh is drawn out, as if Felix getting sick and not telling him is truly the heaviest weight on his shoulders. The bed dips with his additional weight as Dimitri sits near his hip, arm sliding beneath his shoulders. Felix doesn’t realize what’s happening, too groggy and disoriented, before he’s hefted up so he’s sitting.

The noise he makes can only be described as a wheezed groan. It’s not a noise he’s proud of making. 

He lolls against Dimitri’s side, opening his eyes to try to glare at him, but he’s met with the sight of Dimitri’s neck and jaw, too close to look at his face. Felix doesn’t even have the energy to sit away from him, leaning all of his weight against him to keep him steady.

“You need some water,” Dimitri says, not looking at him as he rummages at the night table, his other arm still supporting Felix around his waist. “There’s medicine here, as well. It would be in your best interest to take it with food, but if you cannot stomach it, I think just the medicine will be fine.”

“‘m fine,” he repeats, petulantly. 

Dimitri doesn’t argue. Just hums a thoughtful, “Mmhm,” and brings a glass of water to Felix’s mouth.

He _is_ parched. His mouth feels like it’s been stuffed full of cotton, and he drinks greedily, until Dimitri slows him, frowning in concern. As if Felix would choke on water. He finishes the first glass, head feeling slightly clearer, but not by much. With the water in his system, he decides he’s able to sit by himself, instead of leaning against Dimitri. He tries to move away, swaying when his head rushes. Dimitri’s arm all but locks, stabling him while he’s not even looking at Felix, too busy grabbing the small jar of medicine he’ll have to drink down. 

“I don’t need it,” he insists, when Dimitri holds it out for him to take.

All he gets in response is a lone eyebrow raise.

“I’ll be fine.” He ignores the raspiness of his voice. “I just didn’t sleep well last night.”

It’s a lie that would’ve been plain even _if_ Dimitri didn’t share the bed with him. He’s given another look, this one befitting a pouting puppy and not the King of Fódlan. Felix sighs, rolling his eyes.

“Fine, I’ll take it, just stop looking at me like that.”

He doesn’t miss the smug smile that breaks Dimitri’s pout. He musters up enough energy to glare at him before downing the bitter, herbal medicine in one go. Dimitri’s at the ready with another glass of water for him to wash the viscous liquid down with before he gingerly helps Felix lay back down without getting another headrush. 

“You should sleep some more,” Dimitri murmurs, fingers carding through his hair. “I’ll be here when you wake.”

Felix wants to protest that. He’s not a child that needs _coddling_ after all. He refuses to admit that Dimitri’s fingers stroking against his scalp easily puts him back to sleep. 

Later, he’ll declare that the draught was the thing to push him back into unconsciousness, still feeling fuzzy from the fever.

**.**

Felix wakes later with a whimpered sound he immediately wishes he swallowed down. His head still feels sluggish, but he’s broken out into a cold sweat. He blinks his eyes open, seeing the low light in the room telling him it’s well into the night. The fireplace is roaring, the crackling flames helping light the room. He can see Dimitri’s silhouette, backlit by the hearth. Based on how he's turned, Dimitri’s watching him.

As soon as he notices Felix is awake, he’s up on his feet. 

Felix closes his eyes, trying to burrow back in the covers. A cloth has been placed on his forehead at some point, and it only feels warm now. Deft fingers pull it from his skin, fingers gently brushing over his forehead before Dimitri’s palm settles flat. 

“Ah.” He sits at Felix’s side, and he can already hear the hopeful tone in his voice. “I believe your fever has broken.”

“I’m not sick,” Felix manages to say, miserably. 

“Is that so?” Dimitri asks. He doesn’t give Felix a chance to answer. “Here, can you sit up? You need more water.”

Felix grumbles, which results in a put upon sigh, much like the one he remembers from earlier. “‘s late,” he mutters. “Go to sleep.”

“Not until you’ve had some more water,” Dimitri states. “C’mere.”

He groans when Dimitri’s arm slides under his shoulders, hefting him up. Even if his fever has broken, he’s definitely not prepared for the vertigo that happens when he’s pulled to sit. His eyes are closed, but the world still feels like it's spinning.

“Still think you’re not sick?” questions Dimitri, voice soft.

“I’m not,” Felix insists, blinking his eyes open. “I just needed some sleep.”

“I do not see why out of everything, _this_ is what you’re choosing to be stubborn about,” says Dimitri, half a sigh. “Here, drink this. Slowly, please.” 

A glass is pressed to his lips. Felix tilts his head, hand slightly trembling as he reaches up to rest against Dimitri’s to help drink the water down. As soon as the glass is finished, Felix feels refreshed. Still absolutely disgusting, but no longer parched. He hadn’t even realized he had closed his eyes again until he feels a cool, damp cloth swiping gently against his forehead. He opens his eyes, leveling a look at Dimitri, but he has to admit to himself it feels nice to have his face cleaned up. 

Dimitri moves the cloth gingerly across his skin, brushing his hair aside to get the back of his neck. Felix shivers, though he doesn’t pull away from the touch. “There,” he murmurs. “Is that better?”

Felix huffs, crossing his arms over his chest, ignoring the new heat that rushes to his cheeks and burns his ears. His voice comes out steadier when he speaks, less wobbly and weak. “You don’t need to _coddle_ me.” 

Dimitri hums an agreement. “No, but I _do_ wish to take care of you.”

“I’m not a child.”

“You cannot fight a fever by sheer stubbornness alone, Felix.”

Felix would argue against that, but he’s too tired to get riled up. He shifts away, Dimitri’s touch lingering until Felix has moved to the other side of the bed, grabbing his pillow to shove Dimitri’s own at his. Dimitri takes the pillow, brow furrowing as he tries to parse just what Felix is doing.

“It’s late,” he explains. “You need sleep.”

“Oh.” Dimitri makes a soft, contemplative noise. “I suppose I do.”

Felix plops down onto his side, back to him, immediately regretting the fast movement. He steadies his breathing, trying his hardest to ignore Dimitri moving and settling under the covers. He closes his eyes, settling his cheek against the back of his palm, readying to fall back asleep, when a large palm slides up his side. 

Dimitri shifts, the mattress dipping as he settles, all but wrapping himself around Felix. 

“What are you doing?” he asks, cracking open an eye. 

Dimitri doesn’t say anything, just sweeps his hair aside to press a kiss against his neck. Felix jerks, but Dimitri holds him fast, a smile curling his lips that Felix can feel pressed into his skin. He twists, his movements still lethargic, but Dimitri lets him move onto his back, shifting alongside him to keep his face against Felix’s neck.

Dimitri nuzzles against him and Felix makes a noise of protest. “Stop that.”

“Hmm?” Lips press along his jaw, trailing dangerously close to his mouth. Felix leans away as much as he can, putting distance between them. Dimitri draws back, lips turning down into what can only be classified as a _pout_. “But I want to kiss you goodnight.”

“You’ll get sick—”

He can’t stop the words before they’re out of his mouth, and the sheer delight that brightens Dimitri’s eye, curls his lips immediately into a wide smile, isn’t worth it. “Oh?” he asks, trying to school his face into _neutral_ , and failing. “What was that? I’ll get sick if I kiss you?” 

“Dimitri—”

“But how could that be?” His tone is light and teasing, as is his grin. “How could I _possibly_ get sick, Duke Fraldarius, if _you_ are insistent that you’re not? You know I trust you deeply, as you are the love of my life, and advisor, so I must take you at your word, and—”

Felix lifts his hand, pawing weakly at his chest. “ _Stop_.” He manages to raise his hand high enough to clumsily cover his mouth, ignoring the way Dimitri’s shoulders start to shake with laughter. 

Dimitri’s hand raises to wrap around Felix’s wrist. He presses feather-light, gentle kisses against his palm, which Felix is certain has to be unpleasant. His entire body feels _clammy_. He can’t imagine his palms have been spared from the cold sweats. 

“I am sorry, beloved,” Dimitri says as he moves Felix’s hand, still smiling. “You are truly too stubborn.”

“Oh, _I’m_ the stubborn one,” Felix mutters.

Dimitri huffs. “Perhaps we are _both_ too stubborn.” He leans down to brush a kiss against Felix's temple. "You do need rest, though."

Felix rolls his eyes, settling back down without a protest. Dimitri wraps an arm around his waist, pulling him flush against him.

"You shouldn't be touching me this much," Felix mutters, his protest half-hearted.

"I'll be fine," Dimitri assures, voice warm. "Go back to sleep, Felix."

Felix makes a half-aborted grunt at being _told_ to sleep, but he relaxes back into Dimitri's embrace, falling to sleep with ease.

**.**

Two days later, when Dimitri's fever crests, Felix sits at Dimitri's hip, eyes narrowed as he rests a cool, damp cloth on his forehead. 

The weak smile he gets in response almost makes him reconsider his statement. Almost.

Dimitri’s eye is closed, sweat from the fever making his skin shine in the low candlelight of their chambers. He’s got the bedding bundled up to his chin, his hand trying to get a stable resting spot on Felix’s leg, but Felix moves it aside, resting it across Dimitri’s chest, ignoring the affection he feels when Dimitri’s fingers get a weak grip on his hand.

“I told you this would happen.”

Dimitri makes a noise, half a groan, half a laugh. His voice is thick, wavering. “You did.”

“You didn’t listen.”

“I did not.”

Felix rolls his eyes, leaning down to press a kiss to the tip of Dimitri’s nose, startling a sound out of him. He flicks his gaze up to see Dimitri’s eye is open, heavy-lidded and bleary. He smiles, despite it, and Felix sits back, trying to quell the curl of his own lips.

“You’re a fool,” he murmurs. 

“ _Your_ fool,” Dimitri corrects, hand squeezing his.

Felix sighs, relenting to tighten his grip on Dimitri’s hand. “Yes,” he says, adjusting the cloth on Dimitri’s forehead. “Mine.”

**Author's Note:**

> sickfics are a weakness of mine, so here we are!
> 
> you can come yell at me on twitter @wintersrose616!


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